by Paula Roe
She was reacting like any red-blooded female under the gaze of a charismatic, attractive man. And that scared the hell out of her.
“You wear contact lenses.”
The question threw her and she answered unthinkingly. “Yes.”
“But not to work.”
She flicked the edges of her notepad under her thumb, over and over. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I like glasses.” She paused, then deflected calmly. “So what do you need me to do regarding VP Tech?”
He leaned back in his chair, his expression almost teasing. “You know, you look much better without them.”
“Thank you. I assume you’ll want to issue a press release about your new acquisition—”
“Did you get your blue eyes from your father?”
“My mother.” She pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, floundering at his intense interest. Zac had a virtual buffet of women to choose from thanks to his gorgeous looks, masculine command and charm. Charm that she’d come to realize was completely unaffected, as effortless as creating his award-winning designs. He was a man who appreciated and loved women, a natural flirt. So why the hell was he flirting with her and why…?
Oh, no. She quickly turned the page of her notebook, desperate to focus somewhere else. The kiss. What else could it be?
Hot mortification flooded her cheeks and she crossed her legs, demurely straightening the long black skirt over her knee. But when she shot him a glance from under the lowered lashes, his eyes remained locked on her warm face. His mouth curved into a small, teasing grin, and for one second she felt a desperate desire to kiss that mouth.
She cleared her throat. “Back to VP Tech…”
Zac leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, hands clasped. “I’m not taking my father’s company.”
“Sorry?” She blinked. “I thought you said—”
“I have Valhalla. This is obviously a stunt, not a genuine offer. We haven’t really spoken in years, and I know nothing about the software industry.”
“Oh. So why…?”
“I don’t know. But Victor got my attention by threatening a press release unless I discussed it face-to-face.” The muscle in his jaw clenched, a rare burst of anger quickly reined in. “We’ll leave for Sydney early tomorrow, meet with my father and brother, then concentrate on the Point One project. We’ll fly home Sunday morning.”
Emily nodded as she noted down the times, but inside a hard lump of apprehension began to form. Zac and close quarters did not mix, not when she had a dozen other worries on her plate. She needed her inner strength, and fighting with this overwhelming urge to get intimate with her boss took too much of it.
She rose to her feet, determined to focus on her job. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
“Thanks.”
When Zac’s attention returned to the papers on his desk, an odd feeling of disappointment swept her. What did she expect, the man to throw himself at her feet with slavish thanks? A simple “it’s good to have you back” wouldn’t go amiss…
“Oh, before you go…”
She turned, flushed with faint hope.
“Those debts your ex-husband owed? You don’t need to worry about it. I paid them off.”
She stilled.
Zac’s brows shot up in quizzical expectance, but she could barely choke out the words.
“You did what?”
“I paid off the debts. So you can—”
“You didn’t. Please tell me this is a joke.”
He frowned, clearly not anticipating this reaction. “I don’t joke when it comes to money. I paid it in full Monday night.”
Her insides crashed to the bottom of her sensibly shoed feet. “What the hell were you thinking? I’ve already—” She turned away, tunneling a hand through her hair, destroying the neat coiffure in the process. “I got scammed. Again.”
“What are you talking about?”
She whirled back, hot anger pulsing low in her throat, choking her breath. Jimmy’s betrayal, the thug’s visit and now Zac’s revelation welled up, pounding against her walls of restraint. She could practically feel her self-control slipping from the tight knots she’d bound them in.
“I’ve already deferred my course,” she said tightly. “I’m picking up the refund check this afternoon… I even got an extension on the due date…” And Mayer had known and was going to take my money anyway. Her head felt like it was going to explode. Not since she’d been ten years old had she felt so insignificant, so powerless. First her deadbeat parents, then Jimmy, now Zac—
Zac studied his conservatively dressed assistant with mounting confusion. He could see the tension winding her up, from the pulled-back shoulders, down the painfully rigid spine, to the white-knuckled grip on her notepad.
She finally spoke in a cool, clipped voice he knew all too well. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“It was nothing—”
“Don’t.” Her eyes slashed at him behind those protective rims. “Don’t you dare tell me it was nothing. I know how much Jimmy owed.” She took a breath then said, “So. That means you have me, guaranteed, until I can pay you back.”
Zac frowned. “That’s not why I did it.”
Her look was riddled with skepticism. “I see. So why did you do it?”
“Because you were in trouble. Because I could.”
“And it works out great for you, right?”
Zac stared at her. “You’re out of line, Emily.”
“And so are you,” she shot back before clamping her mouth shut, but not before he caught a glimpse of her barely hidden disgust.
Disgust. At him. Irritated now, he scowled.
Pride. That was the last thing on his mind when he’d stopped Louie Mayer on Monday morning. Admittedly, he had intended to deck the guy—hell, he still wanted to. But instead he’d slapped down a bundle of notes for Gold Coast’s number-one bookie in some noisy nightclub later that night. And throughout the entire adventure, Emily’s pride hadn’t entered into the equation. He’d never even entertained the thought that she could take his gesture the wrong way.
But she had, judging by that subzero glare boring into him.
So much for his impulsive good deed. He couldn’t ask her out now, not when she was all fired up like this. The implications, her misinterpretation…man, it was an invitation to disaster.
Dammit all.
He gathered up his frustration, forcing it into the backseat. “Look, this is simple. It’s not about enslavement or blackmail or anything else. You didn’t have the money. I did. You were threatened—Don’t deny it,” he added as her mouth opened. “Or would you rather owe some criminal than me?”
Her mouth snapped closed and he could see her throat working, swallowing hard. Her composure cracked a little. “No…”
“So there you have it. At least I won’t threaten your family when you don’t pay up.”
Her chin shot up, a defiant gesture that would have made him smile if he weren’t so annoyed with himself. “Oh, I intend to pay.”
“I know you will.” He nodded firmly. “You’re Emily Reynolds.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
This time he did smile. Well, well. He’d finally managed to dig under her professional armor. There could be hope for him yet. “Over the last two years, you’ve shown yourself to be highly efficient, reliable and completely professional.”
At her embarrassed confusion, he paused. He’d been generous with her workplace performance reviews, hadn’t he? Given praise where it was due? Yet her obvious discomfort at his summary niggled at him. “Which is why,” he continued carefully, “You’re going to be my event manager for the Point One complex.”
“The new executive apartments in Sydney?”
“Yes. No relocation necessary—you can do it all from the office via videoconferencing. And it’s more pay, a bigger challenge,” he reminded her.
“But—”
“You
’re not up to it?”
“No. Yes!” She took a quick breath. “But we normally use Premier Events.”
“I’m looking to start a new in-house department, and you know our staff and our contractors. You should talk with Jenna in Accounts about a budget and get together a list of suitable people you want on your team. When we’re down in Sydney—”
The phone on Zac’s desk rang. He glanced at the display, frowned, then picked it up.
Emily knew the caller had to be family the instant he spoke. No one else could tense up his shoulders, flatten his mouth and bring such a wary expression to his eyes. But as she made to leave, he halted her with a sharp gesture.
She stood there, an unwilling eavesdropper, until he finally clicked off the call, his green eyes bearing residual irritation as they refocused on her.
“As I was saying, we’ll inspect the Point One site and meet the people I’ve been dealing with. Pack for the weekend.”
Finally dismissed, she nodded before turning on her heel and walking out the door. A weekend with Zac Prescott. She swallowed the swell of unbidden excitement with a forceful gulp.
How could she focus on the incredible opportunity he’d just given her when her heart hammered crazily in her chest? Sure, she’d have to work like a dog up to and including the launch, but that wasn’t it. This wild, breath-stealing excitement was about more than just a job promotion.
She didn’t want to want Zac…damn, she refused to want a man who blithely made decisions about her life without even asking her. A man who didn’t want her the way she wanted him to want her.
And yet he’d kissed her. Flirted, even. Didn’t that tell her something?
She tossed the notebook on her desk. Zac had crossed the line, invading her private life—a shameful, personal part of it—without invitation. Embarrassment and anger flared up, replacing the fleeting desire. She’d been forced to grow up too early, the responsible one in their fractured family, until she’d been fostered out at ten years old. Relying only on herself had become a way of life. She didn’t need saving.
Not even if her personal white knight was Zac Prescott.
Three
As befitted his top-end income bracket, Zac traveled in style all the way, from the flights and airport car service to the accommodations. Normally Emily took secret delight in their business trips, in the unfamiliar luxury she could wallow in, albeit briefly. Outwardly she was perfectly composed, but inside her stomach jittered with glee each time, just like a kid on her first plane trip.
But this time was different—she was different. She was acutely conscious of every inch separating them on the flight south, of each small movement as he shifted his arm on the rest, when he brushed away that lock of hair while bent forward, concentrating on work. The way he took her overnight bag with a smile, shouldering it as they made their way to their waiting car. Even their “adjoining room” status at Sydney’s five-star Park Hyatt on Circular Quay took on new meaning.
When they both got into the elevator and he pressed the top-floor button, she felt his interest, his eyes lingering for seconds too long.
“New suit?”
Startled, she darted him a glance. “No.”
“Shoes?”
“No.”
He paused then said, “There’s something different about you.”
“Maybe it’s my absence of rose-colored glasses.”
She hadn’t meant to make him laugh. And in this luxurious harborside hotel, with the cloud of serious circumstances hovering in the background, it was a relief to see his normally animated face crease into humor.
“Does this mean,” he said with a quirk of an eyebrow, “you’ve forgiven me for butting into your life and paying off your debt?”
“No.”
“Even though I’ve handed you my highly-sought-after Point One account?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is that why—”
“No.” The truth lay in his direct gaze. “They’re two unrelated issues. You can do this job without worrying about you or your sister’s safety.”
Man, why’d he have to put it like that? She pressed her lips together and stared at the ascending floors. Her objections were beginning to make her sound like an ingrate, and he knew it.
He returned his attention to the numbers, hands in his pockets. He was still smiling when they got off on their floor and he indicated she lead the way. They paused at their respective doors, Emily making a big deal of digging the keycard from her pocket.
“I’ll see you in an hour,” he said as she finally shoved the door open.
She nodded like she had a thousand times before, knowing he’d be knocking on her door a minute to the hour, ready to throw himself into work. But when she stumbled into the familiar surroundings of her premier suite, pulled in her bag and closed the door, heavy tension came crashing down, forcing her over to the cream couch. With a groan, she collapsed into it.
Acute and painful awareness. That’s what it was. He moved and she flinched. He spoke and she felt a burst of desire spike her heart rate. And when he inadvertently touched her, she had to bite her tongue to swallow a frustrated groan.
You have got to get a grip.
Toeing off her shoes, she shoved her glasses up and rubbed her eyes. Work. This was work. She’d had no trouble focusing on it before. And now it was more important than ever. Zac had enough confidence in her to oversee the launch of Point One instead of outsourcing to a more highly qualified event-planning company. Whatever his motives for paying off Jimmy’s debt, he wouldn’t jeopardize his company or his reputation in order to do it.
Which meant she owed it to him to do her job.
Emily sensed Zac’s mood change the moment they walked through VP Tech’s huge glass doors in affluent North Sydney. They cut a silent path through the hushed foyer, all polished marble floor, chrome-and-leather fittings and subtle lighting. His posture signaled an impending battle even though his expression gave nothing away. Yet no matter how tense she knew he was, he still spared a smile and a greeting for the front-desk secretary and security man as they passed. Emily noted their surprised glances before his pace increased and she almost had to run to catch up with him. His haste, his irritation, all spoke volumes.
Do it quickly, then run. Don’t get caught.
The words were so clear her mother could’ve been standing right there, slurring in her ear, her eyes glassy with drugs and bourbon. With an inward gasp Emily pulled up short, just in time to avoid Zac’s broad back as he stopped at the elevator bay.
She was nervous for him, and that sent her heart into a jarring rhythm. Even as she covered up with efficient aplomb, readjusting her jacket over her hips and shoving her glasses back up her nose, she needn’t have bothered. Zac was staring at the ascending elevator numbers with single-minded concentration, a frown creasing his brow.
They rode up forty floors in silence, and when the doors slid open onto what was obviously the executive level, an imposing man stood awaiting them.
Zac’s expression abruptly shut down.
Cal Prescott was the taller and broader of the two, with dark, lush features that spoke of a Mediterranean heritage. In comparison, Zac’s face was more angular, more aristocratic, and coupled with his lean frame and tanned Nordic skin, the differences were a sharp and distinct contrast. Stepbrothers, so different in appearance, yet sharing an innate air of authority and confidence.
“Cal.” Zac finally offered his hand, which Cal took firmly. Then suddenly Cal enveloped him in a hug.
Emily watched them closely. When Zac finally extricated himself, awkwardness was etched as clearly as permanent marker over his entire body.
He took a step back and cleared his throat. “This is Emily Reynolds, my assistant.”
Cal smiled, thrust out his hand and said, “A pleasure, Emily.”
Emily could name only a handful of Zac’s clients who gave her the courtesy of a handshake. Having Cal Prescott, heir to the VP Tech fortune and Mr. One-Click
himself, pay her the subtle respect threw her. And judging by the look on Zac’s face as their eyes met, it threw him, too.
Without missing a beat she recovered, returning the shake with a nod. “Same here, Mr. Prescott.”
“Well, let’s go into the conference room.” Cal clapped a hand on Zac’s shoulder. “Victor’s on his way up.”
“We’re not staying.”
Cal paused, hand dropping. “Why not?”
“Because I have a business to run and frankly, threatening me with press coverage to get me here was childish. Whatever game Victor’s cooked up, I’m not playing.”
“Victor threatened you?”
“Via voice mail.”
“Great. Typical Victor,” Cal snorted. “Well, come in and you can tell him yourself.” And he swept open the conference doors.
After Zac finally sat at the long boardroom table, eerie déjà vu crept over his skin with dark foreboding. Cal’s odd welcome aside, nothing had changed in this place. Yet he’d changed. The years he’d spent carving out his own niche, finally free from Victor Prescott’s suffocating influence, had given him new life and opened his eyes to new possibilities, new horizons.
It had made him who he was.
“So how’ve you been, Zac?”
His older brother sat opposite, the innocent question coated in loaded expectation. Zac studied him carefully. Cal had been his one and only regret when he’d walked out. He’d suspected his defection would cost him Cal’s respect, but he still hadn’t been prepared for the man’s total ostracism.
So when Cal’s immaculate yet impersonal wedding invitation had arrived in August, he’d been thrown for a loop, those old wounds threatening the peace he’d worked so hard to create. He’d declined the invite but still that perfidious Prescott blade managed to draw blood.
“Business is great,” Zac finally said. “Buyers are flocking to the Gold Coast, thanks to Sydney’s outrageous land tax.”
“And yet I hear you’ve got a new property venture down here.”
He nodded. “Apartment blocks in Potts Point.”